We're On Your Side
by CrazySkaterGirl17
Summary: My version of The One. America is planning to fight harder than ever to win back Maxon's trust. However, she hadn't anticipated the heartbreak and drama. Along with that, America discovers secrets within the palace, and learns that she can only trust a handful of people. America knows she has to keep fighting though, for the people on her side. All rights go to Kiera Cass!
1. Chapter 1

The piercing wail of the rebel alarm wakes me from my sleep and a guard bursts through the door. He's not Aspen, and I'm relieved. Guilty that I'm relieved, but still relieved. After my near elimination a week ago and my choice to stay, he has held me at an icy distance and isn't guarding my door so I rarely see him. If I do, it's for less than a few seconds. He must be wondering why I haven't left the Selection when I kept insisting that I don't love Maxon. He's probably angry, betrayed. I'm not looking forward to explaining my feelings about Maxon to him. So I'm relieved.

"Lady America," the guard says. "You must get to a safe room!" It must be around midnight; the sky outside is pitch black. Thankfully, I'm already in my nightgown so I slip on a pair of flats and hurry out the door. The shouts of guards and rebels already rings through the palace and gunshots are fired. Although I've been through these millions of times, my heartbeat still quickens and my hands become clammy every single time. Looking around, I see Maxon, appearing exhausted, running down the hall with a frantic Kriss next to him. Jealousy surges through me at the sight, even though they're paying almost no attention to each other. _Calm down_. _Don't get mad. _Thinking these words in my head, I join them. I think I see relief in Maxon's eyes when he notices me but he merely nods at me and my heart sinks. We make it to the safe room, along with Celeste and Elise, who caught up with us later. We all sit down.

Celeste sits next to Kriss on one side while I sit beside Elise opposite to them. The royal family sits together, but Maxon starts talking to the Elite. Except me, of course. He goes to Kriss and they act like they're already married. It makes me want to curl up in my bed and cry my heart out. They chat and occasionally laugh at something that happened last night on their date or the latest palace gossip. And I guess this is expected. After all, Maxon has pretty much been shunning me ever since our little heart-to-heart about trust when he let me stay in the palace. I haven't gone on a single date with him this week while all the other girls have practically been soaking him up.

After half an hour, Maxon finally moves to Celeste. She, being Celeste, immediately flashes him a seductive smile and grabs his hand a bit roughly. I roll my eyes. That girl is disgusting in every way. She drapes herself on top of him and immediately starts a conversation. I can only _imagine_ what it's about. When I made my shocking appearance the morning after my 'elimination', Celeste looked like she wanted to scream and rip me to shreds. I could literally see gears in her head as she devised a plan to get me eliminated. Again. Quite scary, if you ask me. She composed herself, though, and proceeded to eat. But I noticed the King glaring at my back the whole meal and took any chance to call me out for every tiny flaw. My bent back, eating too quick, not talking. I replied as politely as I could. Celeste smirked smugly, as if reminding herself that I wouldn't be here for too long. I kept eating. It happened again and again. The King would heartlessly belittle me, Celeste would smirk, and I would try to calm my temper. It's gotten to the point where it isn't just discouraging, but annoying. Maxon does nothing to stop him. Twenty minutes later, Maxon walks over to Elise and sits down. I long for him to sit next to me so I can tease him and make him laugh and just talk. I get the feeling Elise won't be staying long though. There's no romantic connection between them and I don't think she has been much help in the war. Their converse is much shorter than Kriss' or Celeste's. It's only 10 minutes or so. After having a short, internal debate in his head, it seems, Maxon slowly heads towards me. I feel hope flutter in my chest, a feeling that has been foreign these few days. He sits down next to me, but doesn't attempt to start a conversation. I don't either. Who knows what kind of things we'd say? Things that should be kept private, that's for sure. So we just sit in an uncomfortable silence while Celeste smirks and Kriss fights off a pleased smile. I don't know how long we sit. It could be two minutes, it could be two hours. But we just sit there. I feel an urge to run away from to my room, pulling his hand with me and kiss him… Finally, after an eternity, a guard comes to inform us that the rebels are gone. Maxon stands up and looks back at me with no emotion on his face. I discreetly pull my ear. He shakes his head and I just want to scream and tear my hair out. _He has meetings. Or the King wants to talk to him._ I work on convincing myself of this. But I can't. I just can't. If he really wanted to see me, he could've just nodded and then sneak into my room later on or something, right? Why doesn't he want to see me? Months ago, I wouldn't have cared, but now… I do. I start to make my way back to my room, almost like a robot. I go through the motions but they have no meaning. Why do I care if he doesn't see me _so much_? I know I want him to choose me to be the One, but… do I really love him? I reach my room and plop down on my bed without taking off my shoes. I can't seem to find sleep again. I just lie awake repeating, _Do I _love_ Maxon? _Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I'm just too confused over Aspen, Maxon, the Selection, my whole life, really. I wish I could play some piano. I haven't played it in a long time. Too long. But I would wake everyone up. I just want some quiet time to think, but I can't focus in my tiny room. Then, I feel my feet bringing me somewhere. I reach the palace doors leading to the garden. The garden! Almost feeling giddy, I leap out into the garden and _skip _to the bench. But I see another dark figure sitting there. It's…

"Maxon!"


	2. Chapter 2

**By the way, I forgot to point this out: since the rebel attack was at midnight and it lasted 2 hours, people have gone to sleep again. I'm so sorry I didn't point that out and I promise I won't do that again! Special thanks to the following: dayaya198, shawwwtttttyyyy, and Bluetardis00914! Thanks so much for reviewing! Also, if you want to keep reading, I will update fast. Maybe every 2-3 days. Enjoy!**

_"Maxon!" _

He looks up at me in surprise when I sit down. Different ways to start a conversation flit my head. _What've _

_you been doing this week? Why are you out here?_ But I just sit. Finally, he speaks.

"Hey."

With that single word, something inside of me just snaps, and I let out all of the loneliness and confusion that

have been bottled up inside of my head.

"'_Hey'?_ Your first word to me in _weeks _is '_hey'_? Seriously, Maxon? You haven't come to my room or even

talked to me in a week and all you say is one single word!" I'm talking louder now and I stand up and start to

pace. "You could've asked me how I was or something! And is it that hard to just come to my room for just a

few minutes? Do you_ know_ how hard this week has been? Everyone-besides my maids- ignores me like I'm

invisible! And Celeste and Kriss have just about finished convincing themselves that I'm a goner! So after a

week, you haven't tried to come talk to me and when we do manage to be alone, it's not because you decided

to visit me! And then all you say is-"

I'm cut off when he stands up and in one long stride, grabs my face in his hands and kisses me. I'm so

shocked that I almost don't kiss him back. When he pulls away, he inspects my face to see my reaction.

Finally, I come to my senses. "W-what was that for?"

"To shut you up," he replies, grinning. I'm about to yell at him again, but he must see my angry expression

because he adds, "I'm joking! But it was quite entertaining to watch you."

I spend two minutes trying to figure out how to reply when he starts talking. "America, I must say I'm sorry. I

tried as hard as I could to see you but Father kept trying to intercept by giving me more work or even

ordering me to go see Kriss, Elise, or Celeste!"

"Whatever it takes to avoid me," I say dryly, flashing him a small smile.

"Exactly," Maxon confirms. We move so that I'm sitting in his lap on the bench with my head against his chest,

staring at the stars. It brings up an old memory, before all the drama that has happened now.

"Maxon?" I say. He makes a questioning sound so I know that he's listening. "Do you still remember the time

when you told me that all the stars are different colors? And then when we had to go inside, I said you should

teach me about them?"

"Yes, actually. I didn't think you would remember," He says. "Why?"

"Well, I was thinking, maybe you could teach me now, because I seriously can't tell." I smirk, repeating the

words I said so long ago. Maxon chuckles and points at a star. Then he goes into a detailed lesson about it.

"That star over there," he says, squinting, "is blue. Can you tell?" I shake my head. I don't even know which

star he's talking about. "Well it is. A blue star is a young star and it burns very hot. It's like a baby star. That

one over there is yellow." He points at another star, a bit left to the first one. "It's like a middle aged star. It is

cooler than blue stars. Basically, the color of stars determines its temperature, age, and composition, and

type."

"That," I remark, "is _way _more complicated than it seems." Maxon laughs.

"It sure is. And while the stars are beautiful, I think you're the most beautiful of them all." I blush furiously,

attempting to protest that I'm not, but it comes out in stutters. How can he always come up with such sweet

compliments from the top of his head that leave me speechless? Maxon turns me around so that I face him

and gently brushes his lips against mine. While it's quick, the tenderness in the kiss make me feel loved and

adored- and I want more. But I'm getting tired and Maxon seems to sense it so he sweeps me up into his

strong arms and walks back to my room.

Maxon and I get to work, tidying up the mess the rebels made. I didn't notice the pillow on the ground or the

toppled over nightstand before. I guess I was feeling a bit low. Until I saw Maxon, of course.

We're cleaning up the bed when I accidentally whack Maxon right in his face with my pillow while turning

around. My hands fly to my mouth, dropping the pillow.

"Oh my God, I'm so-" Unexpectedly, something big and soft connects with my head, slightly knocking me

back. My head darts up to see Maxon, holding the pillow in his hand and beaming victoriously.

"You were saying, my dear?" Without thinking, I grab another pillow that lay off to the side and hit him back.

Soon, my room is filled with our quiet shrieking and laughter. We continue to lightly pound each other, not

caring about the messy bed or the fact that we should be sleeping. We keep striking each other in our heads,

arms, legs, stomach. Anything that we can hit is hit. I haven't felt so happy, so free in ages; I've been

worrying about King Clarkson's threat and the rest of the competition for so long and haven't thought of

having fun. But Maxon always seems to bring out the cheery side of me.

Finally, Maxon pulls me to him and gathers me up into his arms, and our giggling and chuckling gradually dies

down into steady breathing. We sit there on my bed for a little while, just enjoying each other's presence. It's

so much different than the awkward silence in the safe room. In fact, that seems like an unpleasant dream.

But now, I feel protected and secure in Maxon's arms rather than scared and lonely.

All too soon, he stands up and makes my bed while I wish that I could replay that moment again. Then he

tucks me in like a small child and kisses me softly.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he says. I nod, thinking that breakfast can't come fast enough. Then he quickly

plants a kiss on my lips and starts to walk away, but I grab his hand.

"And Maxon? I am _not_ your 'dear'," I say.

"No," he agrees, "you are much more." Then he leaves.

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, happier than I've been in the longest time.

**So? Whaddya think? I really hoped you liked it! So much Maxerica that I almost can't stand it! Any advice would be appreciated! I'm adding Maxerica to the dictionary ASAP. Btw, I learned a lot about stars while writing this.**

** -Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys! OMG I'm trying to get a good format; the first chapter was too bunched together and the second was weird because the writing didn't go all the way across the page, it stopped like 3/4 of the way there. Any tips? Thanks for all the amazing and supportive reviews, especially lilythemermaid. Yours made me so happy! *sniffles*I hope you guys keep reading! Have any of you heard the song Happy by Pharrell? Hehe I love it… Enjoy!**

Outstanding. Magnificent. Brilliant. These are all words that can describe my maids, whom I would rather consider friends. The wonderful dresses they makenever cease to amaze me. This one was no exception. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and was made of silk. It had an ombré design, going from baby blue down to white. A transparent shimmering fabric was placed on top of that, catching the light beautifully. The material was bunched on my left side at my waist and the skirt flared out a just a tiny bit, ending a few inches below my knee. My maids put my feet in blue kitten heels that matched the top color of the dress. I also wore Maxon's bracelet and a pair of diamond earrings. My makeup was light. It was just enough so that it was noticeable, but not too over the top. My hair was in a simple French braid. In other words, I looked beautiful.

"It's amazing," I say softly when I look in the mirror, as if in a trance. My maids nod in agreement. "I think this is the best one yet."

"Well, after a rebel attack, most people would be slightly scared, right? So we wanted to make it seem like you're stronger than ever rather than afraid and we thought a unique dress would do the trick," Anne replies.

"I don't know what to say, girls," I answer, astounded. I've always loved my maids, but sometimes, I forget how truly gifted they are.

"Don't say anything," Mary says. "Just go make us proud." They usher me out the door. When I exit, I see the guard that helped me get to the safe room during the rebel attack. While I had no time to get to know him last night, I now see that his name is Officer Riley. He has a long nose, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair framing his long face. He's kind of scrawny, actually.

"Hello," I begin. "You're guarding my room now, right?"

"Correct," Officer Riley replies warmly. "I've taken over Officer Leger's shift since he requested to move." For some reason, I feel longing and sadness at thisknowledge. Sure, I'm over him, but it's like I lost a close friend, and I guess I have. He must be feeling worse than me, though. I mean, to lose the love of your life? Once upon a time, I couldn't imagine losing Aspen. Now, I can't imagine losing Maxon.

"Well, I must go to breakfast now. Goodbye!" I say, waving. He waves back with a kind expression on his face and smiles. I immediately decide I like him.

I head to the Dining Hall with renewed confidence and grace, still practically glowing from my unplanned date with Maxon. When I enter, everyone else hasbeen seated already. Maxon looks at me with a face mirroring mine when I first saw my dress. He must be admiring my maids' work. Suddenly, I'm even more delighted that they put me in it.

I take a seat next to Elise, thinking that she won't mock me about my lack of time with Maxon. I'm served a plate full of steaming, seasoned eggs and a glass of water. The royal family is already here and I see Maxon smiling at me with amusement but when I lock eyes with him, the grin falls off his face and he becomes serious. He pulls his ear in one swift motion. I nod and continue eating, confused at his sudden change of emotion.

I turn when I hear my name. Celeste. She's been in deep conversation with Kriss the whole time, who sits on Celeste's left.

"Well, America's going to leave soon. I'm sure of it," Celeste says in a hushed whisper. Probably so no one hears. Kriss nods furiously.

"Yeah. Did you see how America hasn't seen Maxon one single time since the _Report_?" Kriss replies, happy at this thought. I am honestly shocked. Whathappened to Kriss, the sweet and kind Kriss who wouldn't dare gossip about anyone? And now she's talking with Celeste, of all people, about _me? _What happened to wanting being friends? She must be really determined to marry Maxon. Well, if she is, I'll have to strive even higher than her.

"He's been ignoring her this whole week. I don't even know why she's here," Celeste says. Instead of letting her mean words get to me, I smirk. She has no idea what happened when we encountered each other after the rebel attack.

I tune out of their conversation and eat for two reasons: I don't want to let any words bother me and because they're completely wrong. I doubt Maxon'sgoing to eliminate me anytime soon, that is, if he does eliminate me at all.

Elise leaves a few minutes later, but Celeste and Kriss hardly acknowledge her absence. I finish breakfast soon after and excuse myself, leaving Celeste andKriss to talk.

I reach my door and open it, deciding to play piano while I wait for Maxon to pick me up. I sit down and position my finger above the keys, ready to play apiece. Automatically, I pick an advanced Sonata that I mastered long ago. It's fast and cheery, with big and loud chords, trills, tempo changes, different dynamics, slurs, staccatos, and racing scales. I let the music suck me in and the rest of the world fades into nothingness. When I reach the unavoidable end Iplay a resounding A Major chord that booms through the whole room.

As the last echoes of that note ebbs away, there's a loud knock on the door. I get up from the piano bench and eagerly open the door. Maxon stands in front of me, handsome as ever. I grab his outstretched hand and I let him lead me somewhere.

To my surprise, we stop at the stairs that lead to the third floor.

"Maxon? Where are we going?" I ask tentatively.

"I'm bringing you to my study." He replies. "I need to talk to you about something." I get the feeling that this isn't going to be a nice, carefree chat. I follow

him up and we stop at what must be his study. The guards standing there pay no attention to us as we pass. Maxon pushes the door open and I stop to marvel at the room. It's big and spacy with a desk off to one side and tons of pictures hung on a wall.

Maxon sits in the chair at his desk and I pull one out, place it opposite to him and sit down in it. I look up at Maxon. His face only shows seriousness, not any type of playfulness or anything. He almost looks like his father, without the greedy, hostile glint in his eyes that I saw when he confronted me after the _Report_. It makes me nervous. I feel horrible to think that when Maxon wants to be anything but his father, but the resemblance is there.

Finally he speaks, his voice containing nothing but importance.

"Can you tell me, America, what –exactly- were you _thinking_ when you proposed the idea to eliminate the castes?"

**Ohhhhhhhh! She's in trouble- or is she? Huh? Is she? Or is she not? You'll just have to find out! Thanks for reading! Oh, and I might not be able to update as quickly because break's over. (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)**

**-Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! School hates me and I want to go to Paris… Btw, what do the terms OC, OOC, and all the others that I can't remember mean?**

"Can you tell me, America, what –exactly- were you _thinking_ when you proposed the idea to eliminate the

castes?"

His question surprises me. I thought we'd cleared this up already. Apparently not. So I tell him sincerely what

I was thinking.

"Well, I really thought that life could be better without the castes. I already told you how hard life was as a 5.

We barely ate and would have to work hard- probably 10 times harder than your average 2 in order to earn

what they got. Every. Single. Day. All because of the caste system. I already told you on the _Report _that 7s

and 8s could help the country greatly if you gave them the chance. So that's what I want to do: give them a

chance to make their lives better."

"How?" Maxon questions. "You realize that my father is right when he says that suddenly taking it away would

cause chaos, right?"

"I know, I know." I reply tiredly. "I'm trying to figure it out. But I'm not going to take back what I said. I really

think this country could do better without the castes"

"Ok." He says, unconvinced. "You better figure it out quickly. You have no idea how angry my father is at

you." _Actually, Maxon, I do_. But I don't tell him about the time I encountered King Clarkson. So I just shrug.

"Seriously, America. You have to get on his good side!" Maxon pleads, taking my shrug as indifference.

"Once again, I'm trying!" I say. But this whole thing has gotten me panicked. I really have no idea what to do.

And then there's the fact that I have to earn back his trust. Joy.

"Ok, I believe you." Maxon finally relents.

"So, should I leave now?" I ask, standing up. Maxon does the same.

"Yes, wait, no. I have another question." I nod, telling him to continue. "Do you want to eat dinner together?

In my room, maybe?"

"Sure!" I respond enthusiastically, already jumping up and down. Not literally, of course. I really can't wait to

see his room. Maxon chuckles at my eagerness and kisses me on the cheek.

"See you later."

"Maybe." I joke. He scoffs and I giggle.

"By the way, I love your dress." Maxon whispers into my ear. I leave hastily so that he doesn't see my blush.

By the time I make it back to my room, I still have an hour or two to wait until lunch. I ponder over what I

should do. I could play piano or go out to the gardens. Finally, I decide to write to my family.

**Dear Mom, Dad, May, and Gerad,**

** First of all, I hope everyone's doing well! Are you guys mad at me? For suggesting to **

**eliminate the caste system? I thought it was a good idea at the time, but now Maxon doesn't trust **

**me and the King hates-no, absolutely despises me! If you are mad, I'm really sorry and I'm doing **

**my best to clear things up. But I'm not the only one Maxon really cares about now; Kriss is my **

**biggest competition. Mom, you'll be happy to know that I want to marry Maxon now and I'm doing **

**everything I can to win. And May, if you want more treats, just ask! And Dad, I really hope you're **

**proud of me. As for Gerad, has he found what he wants to do? Or does he still want to play soccer **

**all day? Also, I have a dinner date with Maxon tonight! I'm so excited! I love you all!**

**Sincerely,**

** America**

Just as I finish writing the last word, there's a knock on my door.

"Come in!" I call. Officer Riley pokes his head in the room.

"Lady America, Queen Amberly requests your presence in the Women's Room." He informs. Quickly, I stand

and leave, thanking him. I get to the Women's Room and Kriss, Celeste, and Elise are already seated with the

Queen. I curtsy as gracefully as I can and sit next to Kriss. Queen Amberly gives me a warm smile and starts

talking.

"As you must know, Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks. We're going to have a Christmas ball and I

want you girls to plan it. You'll all have a specific job to do which I have already chosen. Together, you will

chose a color scheme. Kriss, you will be in charge of the Christmas tree, Celeste manage the food, Elise will

take care of the design and where everything will go, and America will decide what kind of music we'll have.

America, since you grew up learning music, you can sing or play yourself if you want to. I recommend you

work together to insure that nothing clashes. Also, here's a folder of suggestions or advice for each of your

topics" She says, handing us each a white folder with our names on it in black. This is going to be so simple!

I've learned countless traditional Christmas carols over the years and know them like the back of my hand.

The other girls aren't as happy with this news. Celeste looks resentful that she got something as boring as

food, Elise seems a bit disappointed, but Kriss is as happy as ever. When I look back at Queen Amberly, she

sends me a wink. I give her the tiniest hint of a smile. Did she give me the one that I would have no trouble

doing on purpose? If so, why?

"I will take care of the guest list. How do you ladies feel about meeting your families?" Queen Amberly says.

We all squeal in delight. We talk for a little more about the theme and color. Eventually, we agree on a classic

red and white color scheme, aiming for festive and memorable. While it's very basic, we plan on making the

simplicity shine. After that, the Queen dismisses us to get ready for lunch.

I open the door to my room and see that it's time for lunch so I make my way to the Dining Hall. Lunch is

uneventful, with minor conversation. I leave after I finish my meal and try to entertain myself for until

dinnertime. I play my instruments, read, and even lie on the bed doing nothing for a few hours until there's

another knock on my door. I open it and the person I least expect stands in front of me.

"Lady America." Silvia greets me rather coldly. She is still hugely disappointed at me for my stunt on the

_Report, _but it used to be worse. For a few days after the _Report,_ she relentlessly gave me the cold shoulder.

Now, I'm just her least favorite student. "I have something to tell you." Curtsying, I let her in and she says,

"After your _greatly_ irresponsible actions in the last _Report_, King Clarkson would like you to correct your

mistake. You must apologize for your rash performance and say that the castes must stay during the next

_Report _that's in a few days." No. That's my first reaction. There is no way I am going to take back my word. I

won't. But if I don't, the King stay angry at me, guaranteeing that I won't marry Maxon. _I have to do it for _

_Maxon_, I decide.

"Ok," I consent. I'm definitely not happy about this though.

"Good. You may want to start preparing a speech." Silvia says. I nod stiffly and she leaves.

* * *

Finally, dinnertime comes. Beforehand, my maids had come by to put me into another dress.

"You should always look as good as you can for the prince." They'd said. And they stayed true to their word.

The dress is a step down from my first one, but it still looks absolutely fabulous. It is lavender with a medium

V-neck. The skirt has ruffles, with barely any at my hip, but tons at my ankles. The sleeves reach half way

down my arm. My makeup is the same, but I took off all my jewelry and wear white flats. When I asked them

where Maxon's room was, they gave me easy directions.

I walk to the third floor, following my maids' guidance and ending up in front of a massive brown door. I

knock firmly and the door swings open. Maxon smiles at me.

"Hello, my-," he catches himself. "_America._" I laugh at his efforts and curtsy. A maid is setting up our food.

"Hello, your Majesty." I say.

"Trying to be formal now, are you?" Maxon smirks. I give him an exaggerated wink.

"You know me, always trying to act my best around my prince." I reply. He chuckles, and we go to the now

ready dinner table. The maid curtsies and starts heading out. When she passes me, she whispers something in

my ear that I just barely make out.

_"Remember, we're on your side." _With that, she walks away. What is that supposed to mean? And who's 'we'?

But I let it go temporarily to enjoy my time with Maxon. I sit down at the table and look at my meal. Delicious.

Maxon ordered chicken, dipped in a savory, orangey sauce. There is a plate of all kinds of absolutely divine

desserts. Strawberry tarts, crème brûlée, and a two small chocolate mousses. A glass of clearish-yellow

champagne sits to the side. I am in heaven.

Maxon must see my awestruck expression because he laughs.

"So you like it?" He asks teasingly.

"Do I like it?" I ask incredulously. "Maxon, this could make _me_ cry!" He laughs remembering the deal we made

so long ago. We begin to eat, making light conversation and talking about anything that we can think of.

Finally, I remember something.

"Maxon? Silvia came by before and said that the King wants me to take back my words that I said on the

_Report_! I already told you that I won't take anything that I said back." I say worriedly. Maxon looks up from

the food and furrows his brows.

"You did, didn't you? I don't think you can disobey my father. I'll try to talk to him and convince him to let it

go. It might not work though." My eyes light up with hope.

"Really? Thank you so much!" I say.

"I never said it'll work, though." Maxon replies. I just shrug, happy at the possibility. We finish soon, both with

full stomachs and he shows me his room. His bed is pushed against one wall and a couch is against the

adjacent wall. There are even more pictures in this room than his study. Very much like Kriss's description.

We end up sitting on the couch. "I was told that you are planning the music for the Christmas Ball." I nod.

"What songs are you doing?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." I smile. Maxon pouts at me and lightly slaps me on the arm. I gasp

mockingly. "Maxon Schreave, you do _not_ slap a lady!"

"Yes, mother." Maxon jokes.

We keep talking like we have all the time and space in the world. One day, I want that to be true.

Finally, Maxon stands up and leads me out the door, saying that it's getting late. And it is. He walks me back

to my room. Like a real gentleman, I tease him. He just smirks. We reach my door and I hug him, but he

turns it into a soft kiss. I smile. Sadly, he turns to leave.

"Goodnight, America." He says. I wave to him.

When he is out of my sight, my maids hustle in to get me ready for bed. They wash of all the makeup and

dress me in a silky nightgown.

Only a few minutes after they leave, I hear someone at the door.

"It's open." I call, expecting it to be a guard or someone. It's not.

"America, I need to know what happened during the rebel attack after the _Report_." Says Kriss.

**Whee! This is the longest one yet! And they keep getting longer! That's a good thing, right? Thanks for reading, reviewing, all that stuff. I can't believe I actually finished this chapter! YAY! Bye!**

**-Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! My teachers are loading me with homework! I'm so busy. I think I might start answering the reviews. Maybe. Enjoy!**

"America, I need to know what happened during the rebel attack after the _Report_." Says Kriss.

Her voice is thick with sadness, anger, jealousy, and betrayal. She sits down on the edge of my bed and motions for me to take a seat, too. I follow. She looks at me dead in the eye, her gaze never wavering the slightest bit. I meet it, staring back with the same intensity, refusing to answer the question.

When she's sure that I won't talk, she narrows her eyes and elaborates. "America, you were supposed to leave. Everyone knows your idea was stupid and reckless, and yet, you aren't gone! Why aren't you gone?!"

"Look, Kriss. What I do with Maxon is not your concern." I say.

I was right about Kriss becoming dangerously determined to win. The old Kriss wouldn't have tried to pry into people's personal spaces; she would've minded her own business like a lady.

"Please, America. Just tell me what happened!" Kriss replies desperately. I just stare her down, annoyed that she would expect me to- oh, I don't know- bow down to her and answer her every question.

"Kriss, you do realize that asking me what happened between Maxon and I is technically also butting into Maxon's privacy, right?" I snap impatiently. Kriss pauses for a moment to think.

"Well…" She says.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" I wonder.

"You must've done _something _to convince him to let you stay! You should not be here! Everyone knows that so something probably happened that allowed you to stay! " Kriss exclaims, her tone accusing. What does she think happened? And why does she care so much? It's not like what I do with Maxon will affect her relationship with him.

"Do you think I seduced him into letting me stay?" I ask. "You of all people should know that that's Celeste's style."

"Well, how else would you get him to let you stay?" Kriss says, not even denying my assumptions. I shake my head disgusted.

"Kriss, stop." I seethe.

"Why won't you tell me?" Kriss pleads. That's the last straw. She can't expect me to obey her commands like she's already princess!

"Why? Because you don't have to know! It's not your problem, nor will it ever be! If you think I'll just spill my private life to you, well, you have another thought coming!" I whisper-yell, beyond angry. Kriss looks up at me in shock. I take a deep breath to collect myself. "Why don't you ask Maxon?" I ask, faking sweetness. Kriss shakes her head.

"There's no way he would tell me. He'd know that you'd be mad if he told me."

"So why do you think I would just tell you?" I question harshly. I know I've won. She does too by the way her expression has become hopeless.

Silently, she stands up, curtsies, and leaves, defeat plain on her face.

Thankful that that's over, I get in bed and fall asleep within minutes.

* * *

"Miss, it's time to wake up!" I'm awoken when my maids hustle into my room to prepare me for breakfast. Groaning, I turn my body to face the other side of the bed. I feel tired and exhausted but have no idea why. Then the events from yesterday come to me like a flood. I groan again, wanting more than anything to just sleep the day away.

Sighing, Anne tries another tactic. "Lady America, if you want to be princess, you can't be late." She says strictly. I bolt up from my lying position.

"Morning." I greet them. My maids chuckle.

They dress me in a deep teal ball gown that hangs just above my ankle. It is adorned with sparkling jewels. My makeup is much more dramatic than usual, with an intense smoky eye and dark lips. I wear a pair of tall wedges on my feet and big chunky chandelier earrings. The whole outfit overall is more... regal.

I raise my eyebrows at my maids, confused at the sudden change of style.

"We'll explain later." Anne says vaguely, seeing my expression.

* * *

To my surprise, my maids are still in my room waiting for me when I get back from breakfast. They order me to sit down beside them and they tell me their new plan.

They want to gradually transition my style from cute and innocent to royal and majestic. It'll be more mature and Queen-like, but still nicely reflecting my personality. That's not all, though. Anne, Mary, and Lucy plan on giving me lessons to teach me _how_ to be a princess, too. Also, they'll try to pick up on the "palace gossip" to tell me the latest news in Illea.

When they finish, they go out the door, leaving me to my thoughts. Their plot is brilliant. It'll show everyone that I _am_ capable of becoming Illea's next princess. And I hope it's true.

* * *

To keep myself busy, I get out the folder Queen Amberly gave me for the Christmas Ball.

Eventually, I decide against personally singing or playing an instrument. I write down the various songs I've learned on a piece of paper to give to the Queen so she can tell the musicians in the palace to play them or something.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, until an hour after dinner. I haven't seen Maxon all day, but my maids tell me the other girls haven't either. I assume he has been piled up with meetings.

I'm reading a book on politics that my maids gave me in our first 'lesson'. They still support my idea, but suggested that I address the idea with a more political approach. It's quite interesting and is obviously going to be very helpful. Another reason why I love my maids.

Suddenly a guard barges in. I tense, thinking that maybe the rebels have attacked and they couldn't sound the alarm soon enough. But that's not the case.

Someone walks to the table and tilts my chin up. Pools of dark green enter my vision and I realize that I'm staring into someone's eyes.

Aspen.

No, no, no. Why is he here?

"Mer." Aspen says softly. "Do you love him?" His eyes reflect pain, love, anguish, and it's all because of me. There's also a silver of hope. But I can't tell him. It would just break his heart more, and it'd still be because of me. I have to, though. He deserves that much. I _owe_ him that much.

"I don't know if I love Maxon. But I do know I want to marry him." I answer honestly. The tiny shred of hope shatters and anger swirls in his eyes.

"Mer, you can't! You're supposed to wait for me, not marry _him_!" Aspen cries, saying 'him' like it's the worst thing he can call Maxon.

"Stop, Officer Leger." I hiss venomously. "You can't control who I marry. If I want to marry Maxon, you'll let me, okay? It's. Not. Your. Choice."

"As you wish, Lady America." Sighing, Aspen walks towards the door. "But remember…" He trails off hesitantly.

"What, Aspen?" I demand.

_"Remember, we're on your side." _

**So this is shorter than my previous ones but the rest- I promise- will be so much longer! Please review; I love getting feedback!**

**-Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I haven't updated in days! Why? HOMEWORK! Ugh! I really can't wait till school's out! This may be a bit cliché but I made it very different! I promise! Oh! I'm gonna start answering your reviews! If you don't like it, I'll stop. I just think it'll be fun. **

**maggiebswim: who knows? It may or may not be the "frick frack diddly dack rebels." Lol.**

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**Without further ado… (Ha did I just type 'ado'?)… Enjoy!**

I'm caught up in another one of my maids' books on a cold winter afternoon, waiting patiently for a very special prince to arrive.

I woke up this morning to see a thick blanket of pure white snow covering the garden. Icicles hung from tree branches and a few birds hopped around in the snow, as if examining it. I was so excited.

It's been two days since Aspen 'visited' me and I must say, I'm doing fine. Although I had been washed up in guilt for a few days, Maxon has managed to make time for me almost every day, completely and effectively taking my mind off things. He even promised to go on a date with me today! That plan is even better now because of the snow.

I hear three firm knocks at the door. However, without letting me open the door or even letting me say "come in", Maxon lets himself in. Looking up from the book, I greet him, wondering if he's here for the date.

"Hey, Maxon." He barely gives me a smile in return. What's he doing here if he's just going to ignore me? "What do you want?" I ask, hoping for an answer.

"I spoke with my father last night." He pauses, looking at me. Is that guilt I see on his face?

"And?" I ask, confused.

"I asked him about tomorrow's _Report _and about what you have to do. You know, the whole "apologize for your actions" thing." Maxon makes air quotes around 'apologize for your actions.' "He forbids you to do anything but claim that the castes are fine where they are. Oh, and Gavril knows to bring up the subject so you can apologize. I tried to argue with him but... you know. I'm sorry." Oh. I'd actually forgotten about the upcoming _Report_ until now. How irresponsible of you, Silvia would say. I only have one day, maybe less, to put together a decent speech. Does it really have to be an apology speech, though?

"But-" I try to protest. Maxon gives me a stern look, like to say, "Don't push it."

"Fine." He smiles gratefully. Then he takes my arm and starts to pull me up from my sitting position.

"I believe we have a date, Lady America," he announces, changing the mood. Smiling with amusement, I sit up.

"I believe so too, Prince Ma-"

The rebel alarm cuts me off and Maxon curses at our inconvenience. I look around wildly, trying to figure out how close the rebels have gotten. Maxon gathers me up into is arms and we run out the door in to the hallway. My face fills with horror when I see a mass of armed rebels running towards us on both sides. Oh God.

"Um, Maxon?" I say, motioning to the rebels. His eyes widen almost comically and he unsuccessfully looks for an escape route. The rebels continue to come closer and closer, smiling maniacally like they're predators and they've spotted their prey: us.

Trembling, I press closer to Maxon and he puts his arm around me in response.

"What kind of rebels are they?" I ask, trying to stay strong.

"Northern, I think. Even though they're armed, I haven't heard many gunshots, so they're not killing." Maxon replies. How does he keep his voice so steady?

"America," Maxon continues firmly, "We'll run into the smaller group and try to fight our way through. I know it's risky, but it's the only way we even have a remote chance of escaping." I nod anxiously, my heart racing like I've run a marathon. I'm almost positive that his plan won't work, but it's our only choice.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and get ready to run. "GO!" Maxon shouts. Hand in hand, we dash to the smaller group on our left and desperately try to protect ourselves from the rebels' grasps. I deliver weak punches and slaps, but keep getting squished between the moving bodies. It's like trying to stay afloat in an ocean while someone's trying to pull you down.

Suddenly, a big hand pulls my arm so roughly that I hear a pop. Then fire-hot pain shoots through my left side and I yelp, cradling my shoulder. Tears form in my eyes, blurring my vision. I'm taken from Maxon's reliable arms into the dirty hands of a rebel.

I kick and punch like a wild animal, struggling to get back to Maxon's side. The rebels hold me back by my arms while I scream for help, which does nothing to help my dislocated arm. Twisting and turning, I attempt to get out of his bone-crushing grip, but the rebel just growls and pulls me even further back towards him. There will be bruises on my elbows after this is over.

I end up ditching my shoes and sue them for weapons, trying to hit him with the heels. Maxon, who has gotten out of the wave of rebels, is yelling my name helplessly, but even he can't fight them.

Finally, something hard and heavy whacks me right in the temple, causing me to fall to the ground.

"RUN!" I yell towards Maxon's general direction.

"We've got her!" A gruff voice calls. And then, a sea of black.

* * *

When I come out of unconsciousness, I'm temporarily dazed with no idea where I am.

Until I remember the rebel attack.

My head is throbbing like hell, no doubt from the hit to the head. When I try to stand up in who-knows-where, I turn unbelievably dizzy and stumble before lying back down on the cold ground. My dress is tattered and stained with mud and I have a few shallow scratches on my arms. I still feel searing pain from my limp shoulder.

Now for where I am: the room is tiny and dimly lit. I'm sure there's something rotting to my far left and a dirty cot sits in the back corner. In the poor light, I make out a plate of stale bread and water. Crawling, I go over to the plate and devour my meager meal, starving.

How long have I been gone? A day? A week? _Two_ weeks? If so, why hasn't Maxon tried to save me? _Maxon_. I freeze, mid-thought. They couldn't have gotten Maxon, right? Dread threatens to consume me at the possibility that Maxon was captured. He had to have gotten away. _Oh, please let Maxon be safe_, I beg. If he isn't…

I quickly finish the meal, my hunger hardly satisfied and still equally tired. I get to the cot, having to steady myself on the wall. I lie down, exhausted, and- again- fall into oblivion.

* * *

I am once again woken up when I hear a slam.

A shadow looms over me, darkening the already dark room. Quickly I relax my position and pretend to be asleep again. The anonymous person- or people- roughly grabs my arm and lifts me up like a ragdoll. I hang loosely in his arms and allow him to carry me to wherever he wants.

Finally, he quite literally throws me into another room. I wouldn't question it, except for the fact that the room is massive. It has to be at least the size of the Women's room back in the palace and is squeaky clean. There's a bed identical to the one in my room and a coral colored couch. What amazes me most is that there are plates and plates of my favorite palace food.

Cautiously, as if it might blow up, I take a plate of strawberry tarts and sit on the couch. Oh, the irony. I never thought I would ever eat strawberry tarts if a rebel ever captured me. I might as well enjoy myself until I possibly die. I sit in there  
for, I don't know, a few hours? I could be bored, actually, if not for the fact that rebels could suddenly burst through the door and kill me with the pull of a trigger.

Instead, I'm fidgety, and tired beyond belief. Who knows what the rebels might have in store for me?

Eventually, someone does burst through the door, but it's not a rebel. I freeze and my heart skips a beat.

He walks over to my spot on the couch, looking exactly as I remembered him.

It's Gavril.

**Whee! How's that for a plot twist?! Seriously! I'm hyper on Lucky Charms! Review and stuff! Thank you! **

**-Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Happy almost Pi day! My updates will come about once a week now, so yeah. I'm considering editing a few chapters, mainly the first but I don't know...**

**AMrocks21: Haha! Thank you! I love your story so far too!**

**dayaya198: Plot twists are so fun!**

**Luxster101: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!**

**maggiebswim: Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was the rebels. I'm gonna make it different though.**

**ZetakloveN3: Yes! I love plot twists!**

**theselectionqueen: Here's more!**

**Enjoy!**

_It's Gavril._

I stare at him for several minutes before I finally pick up my jaw. I still can't comprehend this sight. Gavril is with the rebels? It makes no sense at all. Why would he join the rebels if he has the deluxe life in the palace? Also, how could they've gotten strawberry tarts, of all things? For all I know, strawberry tarts are solely for the higher castes, and the rebels are not one of those. And how could they've obtained such a high quality bed and couch, when there was only a shabby cot in the prison?

"Hello, America," Gavril says to me like this is an everyday conversation. Because it totally is.

"Gavril," I say coldly. If he's with the rebels, he can't be trusted, right? Despite my iciness, Gavril just chuckles and it sounds almost... maniacal. I shrink away from him.

"I know you don't trust me now, my dear, but you will soon enough," he promises. I grit my teeth.

"Don't you _ever_ call me your dear. Ever," I say. Ha, to think I used to like him. Once the Royal Family hears about this, Gavril will most likely be stripped of his caste and become an Eight. What a pleasant thought…

"And when's 'soon enough'?" I continue mockingly.

"When it's time, we'll tell you," he says, unfazed at my ferocity. Then a thought occurs to me.

Wouldn't the King or Queen notice that Gavril isn't in the palace grounds? I voice my thoughts to him. He leans in close so that his mouth is right next to my ear, as though he's going to tell me a secret.

"We're closer to the palace than you think," he whispers mysteriously.

"Let me guess: you'll tell me 'when it's time'," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Gavril shrugs. Suddenly, I freeze. "Where's Maxon?" Gavril continues like I haven't said a word.

"Anyway-"

"I said 'where's Maxon?'" I shout, cutting him off.

"He's not with us," Gavril replies after a pause. Relief floods through me

"Anyway, you're staying here with us for a while."

"What for? To read you bedtime stories?" I snort at the thought. Gavril stiffens and I can tell he's trying not lose his temper. Good.

"Have a nice day, Lady America," he says through clenched teeth. I just make a shooing motion with my hands.

Well, now that I know they're not going to kill me, I'm bored. Until I hear a tiny beep from behind me. A small television that hangs from the wall flickers to life. It's the _Report _and hosting it is _Gavril_. Impossible. He couldn't have gotten from wherever this is to the palace in mere minutes. No matter how close he says we are to the palace.

I watch the show intently. Gavril's wearing the same suit that he wore a few minutes ago and looks as relaxed and content as ever.

"The Selection has taken a devastating turn of events. During the rebel attack yesterday, Lady America Singer of Carolina was taken into the grasps of the rebels. While the King is doing everything to get her back, she may be dead already." Gavril says, sounding like he's choking back a sob. I roll my eyes. I doubt the King is scarcely trying to get me back, seeing how much he loathes me.

The cameras zoom in on the Royal Family. King Clarkson looks ahead blankly, although I bet he's cheering silently. Queen Amberly is barely holding back tears. Then I see Maxon. He looks like he hasn't slept a wink from the dark circles under his eyes, even though I've just been gone a day. His nose is red, probably from crying and his tie was messily put on. His eyes are clouded with worry and anger. A single tear slides down his face.

It breaks my heart to see him like this. I should be there with him, lightly teasing him, instead of being locked up in this room, no matter how nice it is.

Then the camera focuses on the Elite. Celeste has puffy red eyes, but I see a hint of smugness and it's obvious that it's a mask. Ugh. At least Kriss looks like she is truly worried for me. Elise, well, I don't even know what to say for Elise. She is probably scared because an Elite, currently the most protected people in the palace, has been captured. But we don't know each other very well, so…

"Also, I think our Prince would like to say something," Gavril says when the camera moves back to him. Maxon steps forward and clears his throat.

"First of all-" The earsplitting rebel alarm blares through the TV but it seems louder than usual. It's almost like I'm hearing double, with two alarms layered over each other. And my ears aren't liking it. Maybe the TV is really good quality?

The TV screen flashes once, then goes black. I sit there for a moment, confused. Two attacks in two days? They're- 'they' being the rebels- really, really motivated, aren't they? But what could they possibly want? They've already gotten an Elite, which has to mean something.

Minutes later, Gavril comes back in. _Something _doesn't make sense. At all. It's impossible for him to go from the palace to this prison in a few minutes! It takes about that long to get from my room the Dining Hall! And how did he get away from the rebels? I need to figure out what he's hiding from me.

"How did you do that?" I ask. Gavril looks back innocently.

"Do what?" he questions. I roll my eyes for the millionth time that day.

"You know what I mean! How did you get from the palace to here in just a few minutes in the midst of a rebel attack?" Gavril just smiles and shakes his head.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says.

"About what? How you're going to become an Eight and eat dirt for the rest of your miserable life? Don't expect help from me." I reply. Anger flares in his eyes but I can't care less. He's the one that kidnapped me, for goodness' sake!

"No," he says, fighting to keep his voice calm. "I need to talk to you about the castes." Now that, I was not expecting. "What is your honest opinion about them?"

"Why would I tell you anything?" I retort. Gavril smirks.

"Because. We're on your side."

It's those four words again. I heard it from a maid first, prior to a date with Maxon, then from Aspen, and now Gavril. But the reason is still unknown.

"What does that _mean_?" I demand. Finally, he spills.

"We're on your side, meaning the majority of the palace staff. The maids, guards, cooks, everyone. They all came from lower castes, besides a select few. I was born a Six, actually. We all want the change that your philanthropy project will give us."

"Why are you with the rebels?" I question.

"They want the same things: freedom, equal rights, and all that stuff. You've seen how the rebels tear apart the palace. They want Gregory Illea's diary, the one Maxon lent you, to tell Illea that he was a dictator when he set the castes in place. However, we are not 'with' the rebels. We are only allies and are not actually part of the rebel group. And hopefully, there will be no rebels after this plan."

"So what part do I have in this?" I ask curiously.

"We are going to return you to the palace soon. Then, during the next _Report,_ you'll finish your project, exposing Gregory Illea's true intentions." I stare at him.

"You're crazy," I state. Gavril sighs and shakes his head.

"I assure you that I'm not."

"King Clarkson will kill me if I do this!"

"No, he won't because directly after the Report, the rebels will launch an attack," he replies. "He won't get the chance because we plan to, ah, eliminate him instead." Is he serious? He wants to kill the King! He's definitely not crazy; he's insane!

"No! I won't do this," I say.

Gavril nods, as if he already anticipated my answer.

"I don't know, America. Maybe, when we get rid of the King, we can add Prince Maxon to the batch… It's your choice."

"No!" I repeat. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't kill Maxon!" How could he even consider that thought?

He quickly tells me the plan, with every detail and every backup plan. He leaves and I climb into the bed, trying to get some rest.

Instead, I stay awake, staring at the ceiling.

_Did I really just agree to this?_

**_Whadaya think? There will be ACTION in the next chappie... in some form. Pi: 3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197105820974944592307816_****_4062862089986281348253421170679821480865132823066470938446095505. That's all I know: 131 digits counting after the decimal._**

**_Also, tell me in the comments how many digits of Pi you guys know! If ya want..._**

**-Cindy:)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Um...hi. I know, I haven't updated in forever! I've been so busy! Anyway, expect quicker updates because I'm on break soon(yay)...Maybe. I hope you guys like this chapter! Can you believe it? The Selection Trilogy has almost 200 stories! Did anyone see Divergent? AHH!**

**Athenachild101: Thanks! Hehe... pi**

**Guest mih: I'm surprised that people actually read my notes...**

**AlytheAmazinglyAwkward: I love your username... Hehe. I hope you like this!**

**Enjoy!**

_Did I really just agree to this?_

Before sunrise, the rebels quite literally dump me on the palace grounds, doing nothing to help my injuries. After lying there, unwilling to move for some time, I push myself to my feet and stagger towards the entrance, occasionally tripping over my ruined dress. I don't make it and end up passing out from exhaustion next to a bush.

* * *

"Oh my God! We found Lady America!" I'm woken up when I hear a panicked voice yell. It sounds distant, muted, but at the same time, it seems like someone's shouting directly in my ear.

"Hello?" I say weakly, trying to wave my hand. Instead, it moves around floppily, like a dead fish. Someone lifts me into his arms and carries me somewhere while I try to stay conscious. Through my half open eyes, I conclude that it's either early morning or evening. How long has it been since the rebels left me here? Hours? Days?

Eventually, I decide it's pointless to stay awake, so I close my eyes again and I let darkness consume me.

Finally, I wake up again, sure that I won't pass out again, lying on a comfy hospital bed that has been slightly propped up. My cuts have been cleaned and all the dirt and grime on me has been washed off. My shoulder is very numb, and if I weren't able to see it, I'd think that my arm disappeared. At least it doesn't hurt anymore. My headache has lessened a bit, too. My arms and legs feel like jelly, though, and I think that if someone even loosely hugged me, I would break like a twig. I'm only wearing a loose white shirt over a sheer nightgown.

I lie there lost in incoherent thoughts until I finally muster up the energy to sit up. Over to my right side on a nightstand, there is a full, mouthwatering meal. I devour it hungrily, doing anything but savoring it.

After inhaling the food, I rest my head on the bed, full for the first time in what seems like years.

* * *

After a while, a nurse comes in to check on me, slightly surprised to see that I'm awake and refreshed. Well, as refreshed as I can be in my condition.

"Ah, you're awake. I'm Nurse Kyde. Would you like to know what happened?" she asks. I nod, as I have not the slightest clue about it.

"A guard, Officer Riley I presume, found you unconscious at the palace entrance and immediately brought you here. You were in bad condition, with many minor cuts and scrapes and a dislocated shoulder. We put the shoulder back in place and cleaned your cuts. Also, we gave you some painkillers for the headache; a rebel hit you fairly hard in the temple."

I hesitantly press a finger to my temple and wince when a shock of pain courses through me. The bed tilts alarmingly and I hold the edge of the bed in an iron grip. There's a pretty noticeable lump there.

Nurse Kyde stares at me, worried. I internally shake myself and wave my hand at her, informing her that I'm okay.

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost a day," the nurse replies. Which means the Christmas Ball is in exactly a week. I mentally groan, knowing that I can't possibly pull this off successfully. But there are more important things to worry about, right? For example, my family, the Selection, the next _Report_, Maxon… Maxon!

"Where's Maxon?" I ask eagerly. She looks at me faintly worried, knowing that my next request will be to see him.

"Are you sure? I don't want anyone to come in until you're sure you can handle everything." Annoyance courses through me and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes, but I quickly push it away, knowing that my anger at Nurse Kyde is unreasonable. She didn't do anything at all, but care for me.

"I'm sure," I say convincingly.

"All right. Shall I go get him?" My eyes light up at her words and I nod. She leaves to find Maxon, while I start to busy myself fiddling with the corner of my nightgown and otherwise, doing absolutely nothing.

"America?" Maxon's voice calls tentatively. I sit up.

"America," Maxon says again, relief plain in his voice. He looks the same as when I saw him on the TV, if not slightly better. "Oh my God, America. I was worried sick. Did they do anything to you?"

My first instinct is to tell Maxon everything, but in order give Illea's people what they truly deserve, I have to keep it from him.

"They asked me some… questions, and eventually realized that I didn't know anything so they decided to drop me off back here," I answer vaguely, avoiding the most significant information and hopefully describing it a lot better than it actually went. At least it's not a full lie: I did summarize some of the things that took place, but with little detail.

Maxon looks at me doubtfully, knowing that the rebels must have done more. They're rebels, after all. I silently plead that he doesn't ask, though I'm positive that I'm going to regret it. The small, rational side of me says that keeping such vital information could cost me my relationship with Maxon, but the other larger side keeps pestering me to go with the plan and disobey the King's orders.

Naturally, I choose the latter. But I'm so close to telling him that if he simply asked, I'd comply.

"How are you feeling?" Maxon asks. The corners of my lips tug up at his concern. It was quite adorable, how his eyebrows furrowed worriedly and his soft brown eyes observed me carefully.

"Sore. A bit tired too," I mumble. Maxon chuckles and kisses my forehead. I shift my head up so that his lips meet mine for a split second before he pulls away.

"Take a nap. You're still healing. I promise I'll be here when you wake up," Maxon says. Reluctantly, I lie down and try to go to sleep and fall unconscious.

_When I open my eyes, I'm still in the jail cell, chained up to the wall. Why am I still in the jail cell?_

_ Gavril comes in smiling crazily, with pure madness in his eyes, like he could- and would- beat someone up without a second thought. I shudder._

_ Out of nowhere, he produces a bloodstained whip and raises it over his head. _

_"You told him! You told him our plans!" Gavril shouts. For some reason, I know this 'him' must be Maxon. _

_"No! I didn't! I promise!" I wail, writhing against the chains. Gavril just smirks, pleased from watching my hopelessness and fear. _

_"Yes, you did," he hisses._

_In slow motion, the whip descends onto my face and my eyes widen in terror._

_The moment the whip cuts my skin, my surroundings change._

_I'm in Maxon's study with Maxon looming over me, the same insanity in his eyes as Gavril. It scares me much more than when I saw it on Gavril. I know Maxon would never intend to hurt someone, yet it looks like he enjoys all things evil. _**(And all things hot... Haha Olaf)**

_"I can't believe you allied with the rebels! You've become a traitor to Illea! Look at all the chaos you've caused! I should have eliminated you in the beginning." _

_He couldn't have found out! I'm about to deny it, but after hearing the last sentence, I freeze and then all of the sudden, slump down and start crying silently, salty tears blurring my vision. _

_ Kriss magically appears at his side, holding him firmly to her. An extravagant ring adorns her finger and she wears a beautiful wedding gown. My eyes automatically fix themselves on the priceless ring and as much as I want to take my gaze somewhere else, it seems as though my muscles can't move my head._

_She laughs, the evil plain in her voice._

_"Did you really think he loved you?" she says mockingly. Tears are streaming down my face as Maxon leans down and gives Kriss a loving kiss._

_"Maxon! I didn't, I swear I didn't!" I say in between sobs. Maxon pulls out a gun and aims it. Right at my heart. There is no doubt in my mind that he can shoot straight, so in a desperate attempt to escape, I get up and stumble to the door. I'm almost successful, but when my hand grazes the doorknob, a pair of strong arms grabs me and roughly pulls me back. It's King Clarkson._

_"Where do you think you're going?" he asks brutally. _

_"I-" King Clarkson just slaps me hard in the cheek. I wince. Then he leads me right in front of Maxon, who still has the gun out._

_"No! Please don't do this!" I yell. But he just chuckles and presses the trigger._

I wake with a start.

My bed is damp from sweat and my tangled hair is plastered to my forehead.

The door bursts open, causing my gaze to dart to the door in alarm. I loosen up once I see that it's Maxon. Maxon, though, is looking at me frantically.

"I heard you screaming. Are you okay?" he asks. I try to smile.

"I just had a nightmare, nothing more," I say weakly, but in reality, it did frighten me. But it's just a dream, right?

Silently, he drags a chair to the edge of my bed and kisses me on the lips, pulling me off the bed and onto his lap. I relax further, but not completely, remembering the furious Maxon from my dream. He gently pulls away, and wraps his arms around me. We stay in that position, with his face in my hair, enjoying each other's presence.

"America, you know you can tell me anything, right?" he says, obviously knowing that I didn't tell him the story with complete sincerity. I nod in response, although I'm thinking, _I'm not so sure about that_. "When you're ready, just come to me."

"When I'm ready?" I ask.

"I know you don't want to talk about what happened right now. But once you feel ready, I'll listen."

I nod slowly. A tiny voice tells me that this is wrong, that I shouldn't deceive Maxon like this. I ignore it.

"Thank you," I reply, faking relief.

Great. Another block of guilt to weigh me down whenever I look at Maxon.

Does he really think the rebels did something to scare me? But it's a good thing. At least he doesn't suspect anything bad, like the possibility that I'm betraying him.

Maxon drops another tender kiss on my forehead and leaves. I lie back down.

Could my dream- even though it's simply a dream- be right? What if something horrible really does happen because I kept the rebels' plans from Maxon? Which prods the ever-important question-

_Should I tell Maxon?_

**Yay! Back to longer chapters! I hope you guys liked it! Next chapter's going to be pretty long, I think. I might just update on Saturday. Anyone like the Frozen reference?**

**-Cindy:)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys! It's like, midnight, but I updated quickly, right? This was barely revised/edited, so I might redo this later. Anyway, this chapter's the Report. **

**dragonprincess324: Yo! And yes, you did read my story.**

**supermerwholock: Don't you love Frozen?**

**hfarrands18: Thank you! That means so much! I hope you like this chapter as well.**

**Enjoy! **

_Should I tell Maxon?_

"Okay, Lady America. One more time," Anne instructs.

It's been a few days since I got back to the palace. After Nurse Kyde released me from the hospital, deeming that I was fully recovered, I spent all my time working on the speech for today's _Report _and the hastily prepared plans for tomorrows Christmas Ball_._

My maids have been magnificent. In the past hour after breakfast, they've been drilling me nonstop on the flawless speech, correcting my posture, tone, and more.

They're the only ones who know what the rebels asked me to do, and they wholly support me. After all, they are also allied with the rebels. I was shocked when they told me, but later, realized it made sense; Gavril _did_ say that most of the palace staff is with them, and my maids also seem to understand the conflicts caused by the castes.

They understand that the rebels have good intentions, no matter how twisted it sounds. I know the King specifically required me to take back _everything_ I said about eliminating the caste system, but I just can't bring myself to say it. It just doesn't feel right.

The rebels desire everything that I do: an equal country, where every citizen owns what they need and more.

I recite my speech, carefully fixing my previous mistakes. Once I finish, Anne nods, satisfied, and prepares to leave with Mary and Lucy. As Lucy passes by, she whispers four familiar words in my ear.

"We're on your side." I grin, knowing the phrase expresses support and encouragement.

Once the door slams shut, I flop down on my bed, subconsciously rehearsing my speech, over and over and over.

In a few hours, I'll be on thousands of TV screens in Illea, performing the speech that could cost me my spot in the Selection. To say that I'm nervous is an understatement.

I barely register a knock on the door, but I get up and open it. Maxon stands in front of me, beaming.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, leading me into my room.

"Terrified," I say, letting out an uneasy laugh. Maxon leans down and kisses me, briefly washing away all my worries.

"Don't be. You'll do fine," he says. _That's not why I'm scared, Maxon_. No, I'm scared of what Maxon's reaction will be when he finds out that I ignored his orders. "So, what do you want to do?" Maxon asks, breaking the silence.

"Can we go to the gardens?" To answer, Maxon grabs my hand and pulls me all the way to the gardens, and we spend the rest of the morning there.

Finally, the time to prepare me for the _Report _has come. My maids enter with a dress after doing my makeup. They tell me to close my eyes, and they carefully put the gown on.

When I open my eyes, I gasp, finding myself face to face with my reflection. I am dressed in a deep, royal blue, one shoulder gown. The bodice is covered in sparkling diamonds and a thin black lace belt covers the fabric at my waist. The skirt spills out like a river down to the ground, the left side embellished with tiny rhinestones, stitched in flowery patterns. On my feet are a pair of black heels.

I have dramatic blue eye shadow on, but my lips are a soft nude color. My blush is a rosy pink.

Before the _Report_, someone taps my shoulder. I turn around to see Maxon, his body inches from mine.

"You'll do great," is all he says before he goes to take his place. Just as I decide to go to my seat, Silvia grabs my hand.

"Lady America, we're on your side." My jaw drops slightly; Silvia was one of the few people that I thought wouldn't be with the rebels. Apparently, I was wrong. Sensing my shock, she nods. "I was a Six once," she says quietly. Then she releases my hand, letting me go to my seat.

The cameraman mouths, _three, two, one_, and then, we're live. The interviews proceed fast, faster than I'd like. All the girls' strategies and tricks are all too familiar, with Celeste trying to be seductive, Kriss, sweet and innocent as always, and Elise being her quiet, reserved self.

As my interview approaches, my hands begin to tremble and butterflies flutter furiously in my stomach. I wonder if anyone can hear my heart pounding like a drum.

"Will you stop?" Celeste hisses. I give her a confused look, and she rolls her eyes. "Your knee is bouncing up and down. It's annoying."

For the first time, I notice that my knee is shaking rapidly. I stop.

Finally, Elise finishes her interview, and it's my turn.

Slowly, I walk to Gavril as gracefully and regally as I can and sit next to Maxon. He puts my trembling hand in his.

"So, America, how are you doing?" he says, winking at me discreetly. I beam for the cameras and reply.

"I've been great, Gavril."

"What about you and our beloved Prince Maxon?" I laugh, but Maxon replies for me.

"Oh, she's the same as ever: feisty and stubborn! It's how we formed our relationship," he says humorously. I smile at him.

"Gavril, I would like to say something to everyone."

"Of course." Taking a deep breath, I rehearse my speech.

"Citizens of Illea, I sincerely apologize for my rather unthoughtful and rash actions in the last _Report_. I entirely agree that the sudden removal of the caste system may cause chaos and disorder. However, I do not take it back. Taking away the much needed system is not wise, but I believe it could survive a few tweaks.

"It's unfair, really, how Twos and Threes take a safe house and food for granted, while lower castes have to work hours to gain that much. Twos consider themselves superior to Fives, but they could've easily been born one. What I suggest is that we slowly, _gradually_ take away layers of the caste system, starting with the roles each caste. What if a Two wanted to be a musician, but didn't want to live in poverty? What if a Six wanted to play sports, but couldn't, due to the caste system? Let the people do whatever they want.

"Then, we could erase the rule that lower castes are poorer than upper castes, and allow them to work together and earn the same amount of money. I think that bit by bit, we can create a thriving, happy country, where castes have little or even no effect on people. Possibly, we could totally omit the caste system. Thank you."

Finally, I look back at Maxon and the King. Maxon's face is stony, hardly betraying any thoughts, while King Clarkson is glaring at me in pure rage and hatred that I almost flinch.

Almost.

"Why you little-" he says, walking over to me menacingly. The rebel alarm cuts him off, and I barely jump, expecting it.

He giving me one final scowl before helping everyone get to a safe room. I run, not bothering to give Maxon another glance. I almost reach the safe room with the Royal Family and the other Elite, when a hand drags me back.

It doesn't frighten me since I'm fairly sure they won't hurt me, but it does surprise me. Why don't they want me to join the others?

I pretend to struggle and yell, but let him pull me away.

The anonymous rebel shoves me in a different safe room, and I lay there, sprawled out on the floor.

Is Maxon mad at me? What if King Clarkson does something terrible because of what I did? Maybe this wasn't the best idea.

I'm anxious too; Gavril mentioned killing the King, and I know Maxon will be devastated. Even though King Clarkson abused him, he's his father.

Eventually, I fall asleep on a makeshift bed, awaiting the rebels' departure.

* * *

A sharp creak causes me to bolt awake. Two guards stand at the entrance to the room. Are they with the rebels?

I somewhat hesitantly stand up and follow them to my room. Once I'm safe and sound, the guards exit, leaving me alone in my room. Not for long, though, because Maxon bursts into my room angrily.

"What did you think you were doing?" he shouts.

"I was thinking that I want Illea to be a better country!" I reply indignantly.

"What do you think my father thinks of this? He'll kill you!" he says. He doesn't understand what's going on in Illea!

"He'll kill this country if he continues what he's doing!" I shoot back, red clouding my vision. Maxon's eyes fill with anger.

"You know what?" he asks. Angry tears blur my vision.

"What?" I snap.

"I'm eliminating you."

**I know, you guys hate me now. But is America really gonna leave? I'll update soon, promise! Review, please!**

**-Cindy:)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Can you believe it? Just a bit more than a month 'til The One! Like, OMIGOSH. Anyway, I got a couple of reviews suggesting what I should do, and while they're helpful and I appreciate the support, I plan to do something different.**

**luv2read4reading: Heh, yeah, Maxon is being kinda stupid isn't he? I even yelled at him after writing the chapter.**

**Guest mih: Yes, drama is nice, isn't it? Thanks for the suggestion, but I have something else…planned… *cue evil laugh***

**Angry reader: Yes, she _can._ But will she?**

**BB: I probably won't do it. I actually don't have that clear of an idea of what I'm gonna do, but… **

**ploiuiu: Here's an UPDATE! Enjoy!**

**Eileen Abbey: I'm sorry! *Ducks behind a duck* She may or may not leave…**

**dragonprincess324: Yes, they are fun. And annoying. But fun. **

**Athenachild101: Heheheh…heh…heh… Keep reading!**

**maggiebswim: No one knows! That's the joy of cliffhangers! **

**Wow, guys! That's the most reviews I've gotten for a chapter so far! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Clarity by Zedd or the Selection Trilogy. Peace.**

**Enjoy!**

"I'm eliminating you."

I freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

"You're leaving right after the Ball," he confirms gravely.

I don't cry. At least not immediately. He's not serious. It's just a nightmare, he can't be serious. Is this really happening? It's not. But it is.

Finally, the truth sinks in: I'm leaving.

Then, a lone tear slides down my cheek, and another, and another. Tears blur my vision as I fall to the floor, my sobs ringing through the room. Maxon leaves somewhere in the middle of my breakdown, shutting the door quietly. What have I done?

When my maids come in, they gasp, seeing my condition. Then they automatically embrace me, whispering comforting words in my ear. They're smart enough to have a vague idea of what happened. After all, only a few other things have the potential to break me like this.

Fortunately, they don't question my state, and help me get ready for bed. After my maids finish, they give me one last hug, before leaving me alone.

I climb in bed, regretting everything that I'd said and done, and later crying myself to sleep.

I don't wake up to my maids, but to Maxon shaking me awake.

"America, I thought you might want to see someone before you leave today," he says, dragging me out of bed. My heart clenches. I stumble after him, not even caring that he didn't give me time to change.

When we stop at the Princess' Suite, I finally understand.

"I'll give you 10 minutes," he tells me. I go the way Maxon showed me a while ago, until I find her.

"Marlee!" I call. She walks over to me, her familiar smile already cheering me up a bit. I hug her tightly, knowing that it'll be one of my last ones.

She looks at me, concern and care filling her eyes upon seeing my tearstained cheeks and matted hair.

"I'm sorry, America. Maxon told me," she says. "But for the record, we're still on your side." I smile, more tears threatening to spill out.

"Thank you," I say. Marlee gives me another long hug and then grabs my shoulders, looking me in the eye.

"Do you love him?" I tilt my head at her in confusion. Marlee sighs. "Do you love Maxon?" she repeats urgently. Do I?

"I-I don't know." Marlee looks at me in understanding.

"You don't know what it feels to love someone, so you?" she assumes. Marlee's wrong. I loved Aspen once, before he broke my heart. But I can't tell her this. So I shrug.

"You would do anything for that person, you trust him with all your heart, and most importantly, you can't imagine life without him."

Why is she asking me this? I can't give her an answer, I just can't. I don't know if I would do anything for him, I don't know if I trust him with all my heart, and I don't know if it seems impossible to live without him. I know that these were true with Aspen and that I loved him. I can't seem to find that identical feeling in Maxon, but there is _something_ about him. I just don't know what.

"I don't know, Marlee," I say, defeated. Marlee looks at me sadly.

"Figure out soon," she replies, "but at least try to tell him that you're sorry. It won't hurt as much when you leave if you do."

"How?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"Do something special for him." I nod doubtfully.

Sensing my time is over, I give Marlee one last hug, trying to tell her how much I'll miss her and how much I care for her in one simple gesture.

"Thank you." I take one more glance at her, and then I leave. When I exit the Princess' Suite, Maxon is nowhere to be found. Probably on another date with Kriss.

I return to my room, locking the door when I enter. I quickly change into a pink day dress.

I can't believe that after so long, I'm leaving. How did my world turn upside down after a single rebel encounter?

But Marlee's right. I have to make it up to Maxon. Somehow. I can't just go up to him and apologize. Maybe I can give him a present or…

Then it hits me.

* * *

My maids come in, holding what probably is another spectacular dress for the Christmas Ball. Without a word, they deftly do my makeup, their light fingers brushing my face like feathers. Then, they put me in my dress.

Finally, they reveal my appearance.

It's a strapless emerald color gown, with a sweetheart neckline. The skirt has two layers, with the top one fanning out to both sides to expose the bottom layer. Silver flowers have been sewn on the left side of my waist and bodice is covered in white lace. My hair is put up in a classic side bun, with a silver headpiece securing it. On my feet are a pair of silver heels.

Once again, I know I will be the star of the show.

When I enter the ballroom, the place has been completely transformed. The walls are decorated with holly, mistletoe, bright Christmas lights, and mini pine trees. The room is filled with guests from our allied countries. A string quartet plays festive and bright carols on a stage. In the middle of the room, a massive Christmas tree towers over the guests. With its sparkling ornaments and golden star at the top, it is by far the most breathtaking thing here.

As I step into the room, everyone turns to look at me. Celeste and Kriss glare daggers at my dress, no doubt wishing that they'd thought to choose a color unique from the rest; the other Elite are all wearing red and white. I smirk to myself, happy that when I leave, I'll leave an impression.

I'm delighted to see that Princess Nicoletta's enjoying herself with her cousins, Orabella and Noemi. I instantly head to a corner, grabbing a few desserts on the way. I don't care that cameras are trained on Maxon and the Elite. I don't care that Maxon probably won't save me any dances. All that matters is getting through this night successfully, along with avoiding all the drama.

Whenever I remember that this will be my last night here, that Maxon's trust in me has completely dissolved into nothingness, I feel like screaming and pulling my hair out, but also like I want to cry and cry. I stay away from Maxon and the rest of the Elite, and they stay away from me, too.

As I sip from a cup of champagne, a flash of red catches my eyes. I've seen that hair millions of times before. Queen Amberly _did_ say that our families would be coming.

Setting my cup on a table, I run over to her, covering her eyes with my hands.

"Guess who?" I sing. May squeals.

"America!" she says, taking my hands off her eyes and hugging me. "You look like a Princess!" she coos. Her words are harmless, but they just remind me that I won't become Maxon's One.

"Thanks," I choke out. Knowing that I won't be able to stand the upcoming conversation about Maxon, I excuse myself to join Princess Nicoletta.

"America!" she calls in her Italian accent.

"Princess Nicoletta," I greet. She just shakes her head, amused.

"Please, dear, call me Nicoletta," she says. I nod, and we continue to chat, talking about everything we can think of, until the subject of the Selection comes up.

"America, you'll be the princess soon, no?" she asks.

"I'm not so sure about that…" I trail off. "Things aren't going so well." Hearing the obviously crushed tone in my voice, Nicoletta gives me a sympathetic hug.

"Anyway, try this wine!" she says, graciously changing the subject, and we talk for a few more minutes.

Near the end of the Ball, I walk over to Queen Amberly and tell her what I want to do. She orders the quartet to stop while I grab a microphone and walk over to the stage. Maxon and the additional audience gazes at me curiously, wondering what I'd planned.

I take a shaky breath before speaking.

"I-I know that I've made many mistakes these past few weeks. I know I've been stupid and foolish and rash and everything in between. I know that I've hurt many people and I know that I regret all of it. But I also know that I'm genuinely sorry. And I would like to dedicate this song that I wrote to Prince Maxon."

I walk over to the piano and sit down, placing my fingers over the keys. They start to play, gliding over the keys, a sad, sweet melody. Soon, my voice joins it, singing my last apology. I reach the chorus.

_'Cause you are the piece of me, I wish I didn't need.  
Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why.  
If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?  
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_

Finally, I finish, and walk back over to the microphone to utter two last words.

"Thank you."

**Voila! Chapter 10! Thanks so much for the support, guys! Oh, and if you're a Divergent fan, dragonprincess324 and I will be publishing a story called "Another Generation". It's 10 years into the future if there was no war, and is focused on two girls, one made by me, one by dragonprincess324. It's not posted at the moment, but will be VERY soon.**

**-Cindy:)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello there! I'm back! So I haven't updated this week because I went on vacation, but here it is! YAY! I'm so happy about all the support I've gotten! **

**Theoneamerica: Here it is!**

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**dragonprincess324: Shuddup. Just shuddup. XD. And it is posted! Go check it out!**

**linnearothi: Here's more!**

**prnamber3909: This is an update, right? Or am I confused? XD**

**maggiebswim: Whee! I love torturing people!**

_"Thank you." _

I hop off the stage and flee to my room before anyone- particularly Maxon- has the chance to stop me. I dig out a suitcase from the closet, and begin to gather all my belongings and a few special dresses to stash them in it. When I complete my packing, I sit back down on the edge of my bed, fiddling with the bracelet Maxon gave me so long ago.

This is it, then.

I'm really leaving. The gardens, my maids, Marlee, everything in the place I once said felt like a prison, and eventually became like a second home will vanish from my life forever. I might even miss Silvia and her lessons. But who knows? Maybe I'll manage a happy life in Carolina as a Three.

I single knock on my door brings me out of my daze. I stare at it for a good minute before speaking.

"C-come in," I say, involuntarily stuttering. I wince at how weak my voice sounds. The door opens, and I see the one person that I thought I would never, ever meet again.

Maxon.

"What was that for?" he asks, sitting down next to me. He must mean my song. He doesn't look mad or anything. Just genuinely confused. I laugh bitterly.

"It's a present. Ever heard of them?" I reply. Maxon shakes his head at me, somewhat amused.

"Let me rephrase that: Why did you do it?" he says. My steely gaze softens.

"Because I wanted to say sorry." I say simply. Maxon's perplexed expression doesn't lessen, as if he expected more of an explanation.

"But why?" he presses. "I've eliminated 31 different girls and not one of them gave me any type of gift, whatsoever. So why did you?"

"Because, Maxon! I gave it to you because I wanted to!" I say, raising my voice with every syllable. I'm losing my temper for some reason. Maybe it's the stress, maybe it's something completely different, I don't know.

"God, America. There's always a reason you do something! Why did you do it?" he answers with an irritated expression. This time, I decide to stop and actually skim through Maxon's words.

Subconsciously, I go over what Marlee said, specifically a question she asked, and I realize: there _is_ a reason. But it's the one thing that I've been hopelessly trying to avoid ever since I arrived here. It's the one thing I never intended on happening again for a long time.

"Because I-" I cut myself off, slapping my hand over my mouth. I don't want to say this. Maxon looks at me peculiarly.

"What?" Maxon pushes. I stare at my feet, refusing to meet his intense gaze. He gently, but firmly tilts my chin up to meet his eyes. My bottom lip trembles at the tenderness in his expression.

"Because," I say, "I l-love you."

Maxon stares at me incomprehensibly, as if my words went through one ear and out the other.

Then, his hand's grip on my chin abruptly shifts so that he's cupping my face, and he leans down and kisses me deeply. I slide my hands over his neck, but after only a few seconds, he pulls away. I watch as Maxon unexpectedly jumps to his feet and leaves, swinging the door.

He just leaves.

I stare at the slight imprint on the mattress from where Maxon sat, wondering, _What just happened? _Did I do something wrong? Am I still leaving the Selection? Well, of course I am. He already gave me a second chance, and I absolutely ruined it, along with the silver of trust that he had in me.

But he can't just kiss me and walk away after I told him that I love him!

My vision blurs as a pool of tears build up. I lie down on the bed, pressing my teary face to the pillow.

Crying, something I seem to do a lot these days.

I can't believe I said that. It was stupid, one of the stupidest things I've done in this whole competition; Now that I've told him, it'll be ten times harder for me to leave. I don't know what I will do when I return to Carolina.

* * *

I jump when someone gathers me into their arms. Maxon.

Again.

I don't relax into his arms, but I don't resist either.

He takes a deep breath.

"Did you mean it?" Really, Maxon?

"Are you seriously asking me that?" I snap. He forces a sad chuckle.

"Not the best question, I suppose," he replies. I frown at him and roll my eyes. "Well, now that I know, I guess I can't let you go, can I?" he says, distractedly playing with my hair. I stare at him incredulously.

"B-but I…" I trail off, then start again, unsuccessfully. "You don't…"

I finally settle for a single word.

"What?" The corner of Maxon's mouth tugs up into a ghost of a smile.

"You know what I mean," he says softly.

"I do. But why? I betrayed your trust _again _and decided to do something stupid… _Again_," I add as an afterthought.

Maxon merely kisses my forehead and says, "Well, America, I've heard that l love makes people do crazy things." I look up at him hopefully, but also hesitantly.

"Are you positive? It's not some kind of impulsive decision that you'll regret later?" I ask, doubtful. He couldn't possibly want to keep me after the wreck that I've caused.

"I'm sure," he says. "But if you do stay, keep in mind that it will be unimaginably harder."

I think I've already reached _that_ conclusion.

Do I really want to stay, though? What if it just ends more painfully? I fell in love again, but I don't want to get my heart broken again.

"I don't think I can bear the Selection anymore, Maxon," I say tiredly. Maxon flinches at my words, but looks at me pleadingly.

"Please, America. I don't know if I can let you go now," he begs.

"But it'll be so much more stressful. And your dad…God, your dad is going to loathe me infinitely more!" I say in fear. Even if I stay, King Clarkson's disposal of me is inevitable. One way or another, he will find a solution to get me out of the Selection. "And what about Kriss? You could easily live a peaceful life with Kriss!" I counter.

"What's a peaceful life without you? I like Kriss, sure, but I love you, America!" Maxon retorts. Seeing that I won't back down anytime soon, he continues, softer. "America, I want you to stay. It will be harder for you. It hurts me to say this, but you have close to none of my trust after those two stunts. But I love you and I want you to stay," Maxon finishes. I bite my lip, thinking over the both harsh and sweet words. In the end, I can only think of one thing to say.

"You must really love me if you can still tolerate me after this mess," I admit with a weary smile. Maxon sighs.

"I do love you, America. More than you'll ever know." My heartbeat speeds up. I have to make a choice. And it's easy.

"How could I say no?" I relent. Maxon kisses me on the cheek.

"I trust you to not let me down. Just don't give up."

* * *

It's near midnight when my door creaks open. I barely react, though I'm wide awake from spending the whole night tossing and turning, greatly wanting to sleep and forget about my worries for a few precious hours. Hopefully, whoever it is will just leave.

However, when I see who it is, I bolt up and attempt to tidy the disheveled blankets.

Maxon wobbles towards me, his body hunched over. He winces with every movement, and instantly, I'm aware of the situation.

"Oh, Maxon!" I gasp. He sends me a small, somewhat reassuring smile, but obvious pain shows in his eyes. He must be fighting to stay awake.

"C-can you help me with this?" he stutters. Without another thought, I beckon him over to the edge of my bed.

"Do you have the supplies?" I question.

Maxon nods and hands them to me, taking his shirt off afterwards, and turning his scarred back to me. His father whipped him, I know, but why? King Clarkson does this if he's displeased with Maxon, or when someone else slips up…

My heart leaps to my throat when it occurs to me: King Clarkson did this to Maxon because of me. Because I didn't take back my presentation.

I remember the way he looked at me after the speech, like I was dead meat. I have no uncertainty that King Clarkson did this to target me. And he got a bullseye.

"Oh, Maxon. This is all my fault," I cry, starting to apply a thick layer of the salve.

"America…" Maxon starts. Instead of looking at him, I concentrate harder on my task, desperately hoping to avoid another round of tears. After a pause, I speak.

"Don't disagree! You of all people should know that he did this because of me! If I'd just left…" I falter miserably as I reach for the bandages. Maxon doesn't even try to argue this time. He knows it's true.

Finally, I finish bandaging his back. I am seriously reconsidering his too generous offer to keep me in the Selection. I should just go back to my family. It'd be easier for everyone if I do, right?

"Thank you," he says, before leaving the room, still slightly unstable. I lie down, trying to find sleep.

_Maybe I really should leave…_

**Heheheheh… I am still torturing you guys! Don't worry, I think next chapter will be…less torturous. I mean, will she stay?! Maybe. Anyway, I'm going to update more now cuz there is LESS THAN A MONTH until The One comes out!**

**-Cindy:)**


	12. Chapter 12

**So this chapter kind of came out like a word vomit. It's more of a transition to the next chapter, which I have planned out, but I do focus on America's insecurities and whatnot. Oh, and 9 more weeks till summer vacation! **

**dragonprincess324: Yes, suspense is a wonderful thing**

**Kaminator: Thanks so much! I'm glad to hear it.**

**Guest mih: Lol, that's a good thought!**

**EmilyTheNerd: Aw, that's so sweet! Are there really mood swings? I'll try to fix that in the future. P.S. Unicornracoons sound pretty amazing.**

**Guest: :)**

**prnamber3909: I really do like hurting people's emotions. It's a joy in my life.**

**Theoneamerica: I know, America's annoying me too… thank you for the compliments! They mean a lot.**

**d12t4eva: Actually, yes, I do. Lol**

**maggiebswim: Hmm. I have a few plans for that king clarky boy.**

**Thanks for all the support! Enjoy!**

_Maybe I really should leave…"_

I knock on the door to Maxon's study.

"Come in," he replies sounding stiff and formal, not sure who the guest is. I take a breath and open the door. Maxon sits at his desk, absorbed in reading a book. I stop to take in the massive room, this being my second time here. I scan over at his expertly taken photos, some of scenery, some of people, and some that I can't name. They're all beautiful, no matter what they depict.

A certain one catches my eye, and my gaze lingers longer when I pass it. It's of a girl with long brown hair, and dark blue eyes. She has a bright smile on her face, as if she had just caused some mischief. Her dress is magnificent, surely something worthy of my maids. For some reason, she looks familiar, but I don't know where we've crossed paths. Hmm.

"America," Maxon greets, somewhat distantly. I turn, his words bringing me out of my daze. I didn't notice when he put his book away, but now he looks up at me expectantly, with his book tucked away. I blush a bit, realizing that he probably has been waiting for quite a while.

"I'm not sure I can stay here," I say softly. Maxon's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"What do you mean? I'm allowing you, aren't I?" I shake my head. He's not getting my point.

"It was my fault!" I let out in a short breath, burying my face in my hands. Maxon rises from his seat and embraces me, though he looks as if he doesn't understand why I'm so unhappy. For now, he just holds me, patiently waiting until I feel ready to talk. Finally, I muster up all my courage and dump my thoughts out.

"If I hadn't done that, your father wouldn't have whipped you! Do you think I don't know that?"

"Is that what this is about? America, I assure you it's not your fault," Maxon replies. I shake my head, knowing that he's wrong. It's completely my fault. How can he say otherwise?

"Maxon, I know he did it because of me. You don't deserve to be hurt because I did something. I should just go home!" I exclaim. Upon hearing the words, Maxon grabs my wrists, his eyes burning with severity. I shrink back.

"Don't you dare say that," Maxon commands quietly, but forcefully. "While your performance was senseless, stupid, and foolish, among other things, I know you well enough to know that you had a reason. Tell me your reason." I know why I did it. And it's not because the rebels had threatened me.

"Because I can't imagine taking back my thoughts and ideas! I'm not going to tell all of Illea something I don't believe in, just because some tyrannical, power hungry King wants me to! I don't want anyone to live in the conditions that I had to!" I say, nearly shouting. Maxon shows no anger at the words I've called his father. He considers them for a moment.

"Stubborn as always," Maxon muses, releasing his hold on my sore wrists. I rub them once, soothingly, and then drop them to my sides. Maxon glances at my hands apologetically before going back to convincing me to stay. "America, I know you're not one to give up. So why are you giving up now?" I shrug, though my mind is reeling as I realize it's one of the hardest questions I've ever had to answer. Politics, economy, all the studies that I've learned at the palace can be quickly searched up in a book, but I feel as if I don't even know myself anymore.

Then it dawns on me. America Singer never, ever conceded, even when the circumstances seemed impossible. However, America Singer has almost disappeared, leaving Lady America in her place. And Lady America, who is content with the simple palace life is not fiery and headstrong, at least not like America Singer, the Five.

"I think… you could be right," I say, dragging out my syllables carefully, and hoping Maxon understands that I'm trying to tell him that I'll stay.

Thankfully, he does because he calms down, his muscles relaxing. I'm relieved that it's over, though I still feel like I'll cause more trouble if I don't go back home. And maybe that's just what I'll do. Not for the country, but for the other girls, King Clarkson, Aspen, and everyone else who keep telling me that I can't be Princess.

We stand in silence, him playing with his fingers and occasionally running his hand through his hair, and me fidgeting or looking around nervously. The whole time we avoid each other's gaze.

"Do you want to call your family?" Maxon asks after the brief pause, his face lighting up. "I meant for you to call them after you had recovered from the rebels, but with all the planning for the ball and the _Report_, I forgot. They know you're okay, but I thought you might want to talk to them because you might miss them, or they still might be worried for you. And I since you left the Ball early, I'd assume you didn't talk to them much," he rambles, not sure what to tell me. I cut him off with a laugh.

"Sure, I'll talk to them," I accept. Maxon goes to get the phone and gives it to me, my family already on the line.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hey, kitten," my dad replies.

"Hey," I reply.

"We got your letter, by the way. Your mother was mad for a while, saying how rash you were, but we agree with your thinking." I face splits into a grin at his words.

"Thank you!" I say gratefully. My dad stops speaking for a moment to deal with some commotion back home. I hear muffled high-pitched squeals through the phone and a voice begging to talk to me. After a minute or so, my sister's bubbly voice speaks.

"America! We missed you so much! We were so worried for you! Are you okay? How's the Selection? How are you doing?" May says, firing out questions rapidly.

"Slow down a bit! I'm doing fine! I'm sorry for not spending much time with you at the Ball. I was sort of…out of it." I can almost see May dismissing my apology with a wave of her hand and an eye roll. I smile at the mental image.

"Don't worry about it. We had a great time. And your song was so beautiful! Everyone loved it."

"Thanks, May," I answer. May soon changes the topic.

"Did you know that Kenna had her baby? Her name's Lyris, and she's adorable!" May shrieks happily. I feel a pang of sadness that I'm not with them to celebrate the news, but equivalent happiness for Kenna, James, and the rest of the family.

"I can't wait to meet her!" I reply, sincerely enthusiastic.

I look at Maxon, who's mouthing that my times is up. Bidding May and my family and goodbye, I hang up and give the phone to Maxon, in a much more cheerful mood. He looks at me questioningly after returning the phone and asks, "Who's this 'her' you were talking about?"

"Her name is Lyris and she's Kenna's- my sister- baby girl, my niece. If only I could meet her…" I explain wishfully.

"Kenna? Why haven't I met her?" Maxon asks. I stare at him like he's crazy until I remember that Kenna wasn't at the Ball. He never got a chance to meet her, along with Kota.

"When you invited our families, Kenna was too heavily pregnant to join us," I clarify. Maxon looks ahead thoughtfully for a second.

He's about to speak when we hear the rebel alarm.

On instinct, we grab each other's hand and burst out the door. Without double checking the hallways, we run in the direction of the safe room, praying that there won't be a stampede of rebels in our way. We arrive at the entrance, and Maxon pounds on the door, yelling for someone to open it. The door slides open about halfway before something jerks me away and back into the hallway.

I shriek and twist impulsively, doing anything I can to get out of my captor's grasp. He grunts when I jab an elbow to his nose, but doesn't release me. He starts to drag me away, but doesn't get the chance to when a strong punch to the gut sends him down. Maxon pulls me up immediately and we collapse inside the safe room. Kriss looks at us sympathetically, but with a little jealously mixed in, Celeste's nose is buried in a magazine, and Elise just stares ahead, acknowledging no one. King Clarkson is glowering at me, while Queen Amberly smiles pleasantly next to him.

Our relief is short-lived, however, because several rebels barge in through the door that we accidentally left open.

"Where are the diaries?" the biggest one demands. King Clarkson glares at me, blaming me for this. Rather than letting him speak, I reply.

"What do you mean? Why would you want a diary?" I ask innocently. The rebel turns his head to me, as if just noticing me. Then his gaze hardens.

"You know why, Princess," he taunts. I stiffen at his words, and I can feel the King glaring daggers at me. I just tilt my head at him, acting like an unknowing little girl.

I catch a rebel further to the back of the group pull something out of his pocket. I zero in on the small metal object.

It's a gun…

…And it's aimed right at Maxon's heart.

**What's that? A CLIFFHANGER! Yeah, you guys probably hate me right now… Oh, well. IMPORTANT: I will continue this story after The One comes out. The updates may come slower, but I am going to keep writing. Au revoir!**

**-Cindy:)**


	13. Chapter 13

**So I don't think you guys liked that last cliffhanger very much. Oh well! And I'm back! And I just started TFIOS. I think I'll cry once I finish it. ANYWAY…**

**long Liv D. King: Lol, update, update, update… NOW**

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**D12t4eva: I'm so sorry I made you cry. But, here's an update! And cookies: (::)**

**DannySReza: I am not a murderer, just sayin'.**

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**Enjoy!**

_It's a gun… _

_…__And it's aimed right at Maxon's heart. _

The rebel glances at me, grinning deviously, as if daring me to stop him. He probably wants me to see him shoot, to see Maxon fall to the ground, lifeless. My eyes widen in terror as the rebel's hand slowly clamps down on the trigger. No, I won't let this happen.

"Maxon! Maxon, _move_!" I shriek. He turns to me in surprise just to be knocked over when I push him out of the way. He falls on his back as white hot, searing pain erupts in my side. The rebel shot me instead. I scream, my legs giving way, and my head smashing against the ground as I collapse.

Then, chaos. The world is spinning like a top and everything seems distorted. The room's so bright and the corners of my vision are blurred white. My head's pounding painfully, almost muting every other sound as I lie on the ground. I hear distant screaming, more gunshots piercing the air, and most of all, a familiar voice begging me to stay awake. Maxon. I don't want to leave him, but I feel myself slipping away from reality, faster and faster, like a string slowly breaking from pressure.

I remember once when I was younger, my dad made me try to teach Gerad how to play the violin. He kept playing the wrong notes, making the violin sound like it was being tortured. Or dying. Finally, he broke my bow in half and tossed it out the window and into the bushes in a fit of frustration. I was so irritated at him, and I didn't talk to him for weeks. I swore I would help him find his talent before anymore catastrophes destroyed our house.

Pain, so much pain. Just make it end already!

Then there was a time when I was baking a cake with May, Kenna, and mom, long before Kota grew bitter and left us. We'd managed to scrape up an extra bit of money from a wealthier family and decided to make something special. Of course, with little experience, every inch of the kitchen was left covered in flour and spilled egg yolks. It was still one of the best dinners ever, if only because we were laughing at our failed attempts to make a cake.

My vision is clouded with black dots. What's happening again?

I'd practically lived for my secret nights with Aspen. Nights of laughter, kissing, singing, and love. I would bring him a snack, and whenever he requested it, I would sing for him. He requested it every night and always managed to give me something in return, even when I insisted that he couldn't afford it, being Sixes. There were the subtle, but meaningful touches when we met of the streets or when we went to each other's houses.

I can't feel anything anymore. Not my arms, not my legs, not even Maxon's death grip on my hand.

Then I came to the palace. I wasn't accustomed to the grand, dazzling life and the divine dresses and heavenly cuisine. I met Maxon here, though. I remember screaming at him the first night, and "assaulting" him on our first date. We continued to take walks in the garden, teasing each other and laughing together as we grew closer and closer. I remember his first kiss, _our_ first kiss. I remember desperately wanting to let myself love him, and finally, I did.

Memories, all memories.

And then, nothing.

I think I'm floating. Or maybe it's just in my mind. I feel weightless, like I'm just a wisp of nothing drifting around somewhere in the universe. I've been floating for a long, long time, and it doesn't feel like it will ever end. Good. It's like sleeping, but with a different sensation. Almost a magical one…

"I love you," a voice whispers sadly. I can barely hear it, and I don't register the words at all, but the sound brings me out of my stupor. I roll over on my side, feeling very real and tangible, and just lie there for what feels like another day before my eyes flutter open.

I recognize my surroundings at once. It's a hospital room in the palace, nearly identical to the one I stayed at after the rebels. A monitor is beeping off to the side, probably to indicate my heartbeat. But why am I here? What happened?

"Lady America, you're awake," a nurse says, acknowledging me with a nod. I push myself onto my elbows and ask, "What happened?"

"As you probably know, you were shot in the side. Your actions were beyond brave, Miss. We got you here as fast as we could, but you almost died many times. Finally, we got you in a stable condition, but you shouldn't overexert yourself for a few weeks." I almost died_. I almost died._ More than once, from what the nurse says, because I was supposedly shot.

"Thank you," I say quietly, massaging my temples.

"Lady America?"

Gavril stands patiently at the doorway, silently asking to enter.

"Oh, c-come in," the nurse stutters. Gavril strides over to her, explaining that he has to interview me about how I got shot. His exact words were, "I have to interview her about the attack. Orders from the King."

"Of course. I'll just go alert Maxon that she's awake." With that, she leaves, curtsying.

"Why did you do that?" he asks, his cheerful smile now a slight frown. I look at him questioningly. Did I make him mad? Did the rebels have some kind of plan that I didn't hear about?

"What did I do?" I reply, truly curious. Gavril's jaw clenches in annoyance. Wait, why is he annoyed?

"You. Know. What. You. Did," he says slowly, as if teaching me how to speak.

"No, I don't," I say.

Yes, you do! Don't lie to me!" he replies, his voice rising with hysteria.

"What did I do? Just tell me what I did!" I say, a bit angry that he keeps insisting that I did something, probably bad by the looks of it, when I really didn't.

"You saved Maxon! That's what you did!"

"Okay," I say thoughtfully. So that must be how I got shot. Gavril huffs in exasperation.

"Is that all you say? 'Okay'?" he imitates me badly.

"Yeah," I reply simply, not sure why this is such a big deal. So I saved someone and put myself in the hospital, so what?

Gavril looks like he's going to kill me when someone speaks.

"America!" a much nicer sounding person calls, his voice lighthearted and outgoing. I stare at Gavril, startled at how furious looked, though he now sits properly in his chair, flashing the person a smile.

"Hello, Prince Maxon."

He has short honey colored hair that's slightly tousled, as if he runs his hands in it a lot, and the warmest chocolaty brown eyes that any girl could melt in. His arms also look very strong and toned. I bet he works out a lot.

This person stares at me in adoration, his lips tugging up into an elated grin, before running up to my bed.

"I came as soon as I could," he says breathlessly. Then he kisses me, full on the lips. One hand moves to my waist and the other cups my cheek.

"Agh!" I let out a strangled cry and wriggle out of his grip, bewildered. He stares at me, hurt and shock evident on his face. Then he stands up straight, his hands behind his back.

"What was that, America?" Finally, I let out my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you _are_."

**So…please don't kill me! I-I'll do ANYTHING! Nope, not really. But I do love cliffhangers. This may be the best one yet. I actually almost decided against it, but then thought that this story needed more drama. And in case you haven't noticed, America doesn't remember our dear Maxon anymore! That means I can have him all to myself! YAY. Oh, and you know how people say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die, or something? That was what happened when she got shot. Anyway, thanks for reading! Adios!**

**-Cindy:)**


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